


Keeping watch

by MidLifeLez



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, F/F, I'm Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 18:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9198068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidLifeLez/pseuds/MidLifeLez
Summary: I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm doing this to myself, much less you. Don't read this if you're still feeling raw about this week's Holby.





	

Bernie drives them home through empty streets in the early hours. Yesterday she might have hummed, telling Serena how she’d started to think of her house as home even though she’s still paying rent on the flat. Today she juggles the lump in her throat, too noisy to dare swallow, narrows her eyes and glances at the wing mirror. She wants to press her foot to the floor and drive, fast, to no destination. Just drive. Work up the gears and try to outrun the sun rising on tomorrow. But this isn’t about her. Two rights and a left and they’ll be at Serena’s.

Serena doesn’t move when Bernie pulls up on the drive. Nor when Bernie opens the driver’s door and climbs out. Bernie moves quickly to the passenger side, opens the door and crouches down. Gently pushes the release on Serena’s seatbelt and pulls it slowly over towards her. Serena is staring at the glovebox – or she would be, if she was actually here. Bernie takes her hand and rubs her thumb across the back of it, the lightest of touches. “Serena,” the lightest of whispers. “Serena.” Serena blinks, looks at Bernie for a split second and then her face crumples. “OK, Serena, it’s OK.” Bernie is up now, pulling Serena out of the car and in to her arms. “Let’s get inside.” She kicks the car door shut behind her and leads them towards the house, Serena’s full weight braced against her. Her back is screaming but she has ears only for the noises escaping from Serena, strangled sobs on the cusp of wails.

Bernie steers them straight upstairs, knowing they’ll never make it to bed otherwise and Serena will, eventually, give in to sleep. Has to. She sits Serena on the edge of the bed and looks towards the en suite, silently telling Serena she’ll be disappearing, but only for a second. Only long enough to retrieve a wipe that she uses to remove what make-up the day has left on Serena’s skin. She touches Serena’s face as if she’s taking iron wool to ornate porcelain, dabbing softly, visually checking in with Serena every few seconds.

Serena is silent now. She lets Bernie undress her, shifting as required without a word passing between them. She puts her arms through her warmest pyjama top and sits motionless as Bernie buttons it up with careful, painstaking touches. “I’m going to go and get you a glass of water,” she whispers, her hands on Serena’s knees. “Do you want to stay here or do you want to lie down?”

A blink. Two. “Sit.”

“OK.”

Once she’s downstairs, Bernie moves fast. A tumbler of water. Two ibuprofen for the headache that is going to demand Serena recognises it sooner or later. A biscuit to help it down.

She places them all on the bedside cabinet and crouches in front of Serena again, clasps her hands between her own. “Bernie?” Serena’s voice breaks and tears fall down her cheeks and Bernie has leapt up and wrapped herself around Serena before the first full, awful sob strikes out into the darkness of the room. She holds her tight, trying to absorb the hurt, wick it away from Serena’s body, limp save for the hands that are gripping Bernie’s arm as if it’s the only thing keeping her on this plane.

Is it starting to get light before Serena lets Bernie tuck her under the duvet? Does it matter? What use is time, anymore? Bernie only knows that as long as she can see Serena’s eyes open and glistening across the pillow, she’s going to lay exactly here.

Even once they close and the tears dry and Serena’s breathing deepens, she doesn’t move, keeping watch over every flicker on Serena’s face. Her heart is twisting and turning in her rib cage, her throat burns, and she’s wrestling to keep her mouth shut on the anguish that wants to hurtle out and shriek its existence. She lets tears track over her nose and onto the pillow; won’t sniff in case it disturbs Serena. Keeps all the promises she’s making inside her head in order to preserve just a moment’s peace for the woman she loves.


End file.
